


Engineering

by thinkatory



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Captivity, Cardassians, Engineer Tony Stark, M/M, Starker Bingo 2019, Torture, not as dark as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: During the Cardassian War, Starfleet Lieutenant Junior Class Peter Parker is taken captive by the Cardassians and forced to work on technology to help them win the war alongside well-known research scientist Tony Stark. But Stark is engineering more than just cloaking devices.





	Engineering

**Author's Note:**

> I know the tags make this sound dark, but it's really not that bad, just a little depressing...?

Peter Parker was promoted to Starfleet Lieutenant Junior Grade one day before the USS Prometheus was captured by the Cardassians.

The promotion had nothing to do with the war. He hadn't done anything in particular to earn it, either. It would've been nice to be able to say he'd made some sort of major breakthrough and been rewarded, but it had sort of been a culmination of a lot of work on a little of everything in engineering. One of the other ensigns, a Vulcan named Reska, had heard of Peter's life on Earth and wondered why he was assigned to the Prometheus, of all places, to do daily work in engineering like he was just anybody.

Until today, he really had thought he was just anybody. An anybody with a brain that got science and machines, but just anybody nevertheless.

They had every reason to take the ship once it was mortally wounded and dead in space. Starfleet prisoners and technology would definitely benefit the Cardassians Empire. Peter lost count of the bodies he saw as he staggered up to the bridge for orders from anyone; his superiors were all dead. He was one hallway away when the Cardassians spotted him.

Peter wasn't a good shot with a phaser, and there were three of them and one of him. The fight was short and miserable.

He was sure he was dead. Much to his very brief surprise, they knocked him out instead.

* * *

Peter awoke in pain, gasping, and clutched at his chest. He was wearing clothes made of an unfamiliar fabric, definitely not the Starfleet uniform he cherished putting on every day, and it felt like something was burrowing into his chest underneath. He pried open his eyes and looked around at the brightly lit room.

It was a laboratory.

He looked down on the thin cot where he'd been lying, and back to the piles of scraps, machinery, wiring, circuits all laid out on the table. He scratched his head and pawed helplessly at the something in his chest before starting to peel off the shirt.

"You don't want to do that," a voice said.

Peter jerked, startled. A man appeared from behind the lab tables with a vague, wry smile. Peter just stared as he went on. "The Cardassians -- " 

"You're Tony Stark," Peter interrupted him, unable to help it. "Everyone thinks you're dead!"

"I'm not," Stark said; only then did Peter realize he looked exhausted. "I know who you are, too."

Peter shifted to sit, pressing his hand absently to his chest. "Yeah, right."

"You're Parker," Stark shot back. "I tried poaching you for research out of school. Remember?"

But Stark remembered what he looked like? "I had to go into Starfleet," Peter answered, half-apologetic for some reason.

"Yeah, well." Stark sighed. "We're both here now."

"Where's _here_?" Peter dared ask.

"Cardassia IV," Stark said. "Research station."

Terror ran cold through Peter. "We're _in Cardassian territory_?"

"The heart of it," Stark confirmed, smile unhappy now.

"What do they…" No, Peter's brain wasn't scrambled enough to not be able to figure that one out, that was obvious. "They want us to build things for them. Don't they?"

"That's what they've had me doing for the last six months." Stark moved through the lab, pacing. "You're the first human I've seen. My question is whether they went to find you or if you were just a lucky grab from a Federation ship."

"I don't know." There were so many things Peter didn't know. He felt fear strangling him. "Okay. Okay. So we need to get a signal out."

"Kid, it's not that easy," Stark said wearily. "They're very careful about what they give me."

"But you're Tony Stark," Peter argued. "And… you know, I'm pretty okay at this stuff too. We can figure something out."

Stark glanced away from him. "Just try to stay out of trouble," he said. "Don't piss them off. Or that thing in your chest is gonna be a real problem."

Peter made himself breathe. "Do you have a plan?" he asked Stark directly.

Stark said nothing to that. "Come on. Let me show you what I'm working on."

* * *

Peter could barely sleep. He was managing not to have a mental breakdown, but there was something about the constant presence of the thing in his chest and knowing what it could do that was getting to him. He laid there and counted as he breathed, trying to relax, to trick his brain into sleep, but nothing was working.

He opened his eyes, and saw Stark on his own cot, eyes open and directed towards the ceiling.

"Hey," Peter said quietly.

Stark didn't look his way. "What's going on?"

"What have you built for them? Before now, I mean, I know we're working on cloaking now."

He didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, it had an unmistakable shade of bitterness. "I've mainly been working on phaser tech. Retrofitting their older ships."

Peter just said the thing that kept running through his mind. "Are we going to be prosecuted by the Federation?"

"Don't think so," Stark said, tossing the idea away with a gesture of his hand.

"You seem really confident about that," Peter said, kind of skeptical.

"You should trust me," Stark fired back with, somehow both casual and challenging.

Peter hesitated. "We should do something," he said. "You know we should."

Stark eyed him across the room. "Kid, I like you, you're smart, at least when it comes to machines, but you need to trust me."

"I -- " What was he supposed to say? What _could_ he say when it sounded like someone was just giving up and feeding an evil empire weapons? It was stupid, but most of what sprung to mind felt rude. "I don't get it, Mr. Stark," was what finally came out of his mouth.

"You will," Stark said, with a note of finality.

Peter knew there was no point arguing anymore. He closed his eyes and hoped fervently for sleep, counting his breaths again.

* * *

Peter came to terms with the idea that everyone who knew him on Earth now thought he was dead.

It was a weird thought. There might be a Starfleet funeral, Aunt May given his honors, MJ and Ned near the front, all standing there thinking they would never see Peter again. Maybe they wouldn't ever see Peter again. Maybe this was nearly as good as death.

Cloaking devices. It made Peter sick to work on them, the idea of Cardassians being able to sneak up on Starfleet and innocent ships whenever they liked, to seize or destroy them.

Two months in, he used some wires and a plasma unit to explode the plans.

Tony was facefirst in the prototype when it went off with a flash. "What the hell?" he demanded, and was at Peter's side in a second. "Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me."

Peter shrugged, and offered a wry smile. Stark grabbed him by the shoulders. "Listen to me," he said sharply. "You've been treated well here just because you're useful. You know what Cardassians do to their enemies."

"I can't do this," Peter said steadily. "I can't help them."

"Kid." Stark exhaled. "Kid, I need you to trust me."

"Trust you? You never tell me anything," Peter shot back. "You just say, work on the project, trust me, trust me, why would I trust you?"

"Because I'm not stupid and you know that," Stark said sharply.

"I think you're just trying to survive," Peter insisted. "And I don't want to survive if it means I help them win the war and do more evil."

The door opened; the Cardassian assigned to them, Nista, entered the room, and she smiled. "I hope you're both all right," she said. "We noted a heat signature consistent with a plasma explosion."

"We're fine, thanks," Stark said, tone flat.

"What happened?" Nista persisted, her smile unflinching.

"Nothing major." Stark shrugged. "We're still working on the prototype."

Nista's eyebrows raised. "The prototype seems fine," she noted. "If that's what's in front of you."

Peter took a deep breath and said nothing. There was no knowing what the line between courage and stupidity was right now.

"The prototype just needs a few more tweaks," Stark said breezily. "So, yeah, let's get back to it, okay, Parker?"

"You promised the plans today." Nista's gaze hardened, though that faint, thin smile was still there. "Is that still in order?"

Stark hesitated. "No," he said, to the point.

Nista paused. "I don't think I understand," she said slowly. "Are you telling me that you're behind?"

Peter couldn't hold it in. "I refuse to work for you." There it was. His stupid, courageous moment. "I refuse to give you this technology."

Nista's gaze landed on him and her lip curled. "You sabotaged these plans," she said. "Well, I should say it's brave of you to admit it. But now you need to come with me."

"Or what?" Peter shot back.

"Parker," Stark said quietly.

"What? You don't want to kill me," Peter challenged. "Do you?"

"No," Nista said crisply. "We don't." She took out a device and hit a button, and a jolt of pain burst through Peter that bent him over, clutching his stomach. "Now," he registered her saying, just barely, "you will come with me."

"No," Peter ground out.

"Kid," Stark said, louder this time. Peter shook his head and the pain burst through his chest, his arms, his legs, and into his skull. There was a long pause, and Nista cleared her throat delicately.

"Are we done with this little game?" she asked.

"When you get back here," Stark said, tone soft but urgent, "you need to trust me. Okay?"

Peter didn't know what to do. He didn't think the pain would kill him. He thought he could tolerate more, even, but he didn't know what the right move was. Maybe the promotion was a mistake; maybe he didn't deserve a rank beyond a pathetic ensign.

Nista yanked him to his feet and he struggled; she pressed a sharp pain through him and he gave in.

* * *

The torture was torture. They hung him naked and they smirked at him and they pressed their stupid button. Peter held out as long as he could, longer than he ever thought he could, but he managed to manage what came out of his mouth, every Federation 'secret' a lie, not that he knew many. He could taste blood in his mouth as he waited and waited for Nista to come back in and take him down.

It was probably half a day before they came back, and Peter was completely exhausted. He had no idea how long he'd been hanging there, alternating between waiting for pain and the pain itself. Nista and another Cardassian dropped him back to the ground, and he struggled to put on his clothes, damning the metal implant that allowed them to hurt him so badly he could feel it in his bones and every muscle in his body.

When they shut the door of the lab behind him, Stark looked up from the lab table. "So," he said. "How'd that go for you?"

"Not great," Peter said, not in the mood for sarcastic comments about all this. "I don't get it, Mr. Stark."

Stark turned towards Peter. "I can't tell you," he said, to the point.

"Are you serious?" Peter demanded. "I need to know what's going on."

Stark shook his head. "You heard me. You just gotta trust me."

"You want me to work with you on all this," Peter pressed. "Why?"

"Okay, fine, kid." Stark was starting to sound a little pissed. "Maybe you're as smart as I think you are. Maybe you can figure this out without me explaining every goddamn thing to you. Or maybe it's for the best if you just trust that I'm not a total idiot."

There was something in there, though. "You do have a plan."

"I'm doing what I'm told," Stark said firmly.

Peter frowned. "Can I see the plans?" he asked. If there was something to figure out, it was in the plans.

"Which plans?" Stark was half-smiling now. "They're all on the shelf behind here."

"Can I -- " Peter started, and Stark nodded, dismissing him with a shrug and going back to his work. Peter hurried to grab everything off the shelf and hid behind the table to read through them.

* * *

Peter was used to not sleeping at this point. Now what passed for night in their lab (they hadn't seen a star or a moon since their arrival) was time for him to read through plans. He paused at looking through the plans for the Cardassian plasma reactors, then hurriedly grabbed the phaser bank plans and looked at them side by side.

"What," he breathed.

"Did you get it yet?" Stark called from his cot.

"What did you _do_?" Peter called back, astounded.

"I'm just building what they asked for," Stark said mildly, but he sounded a little self-satisfied.

"But -- " The part he couldn't say out loud was _you built all these to work separately but overload when combined in a specifically Cardassian ship, fuck, that's brilliant._ "What more do we need to do?"

"Cloaks and warp," Stark answered. "You in?"

"Yeah," Peter said, dizzy still with the realization. All this plus a tweaked warp drive… no Cardassian ship could survive that. "What if they -- "

"They won't," Stark said breezily.

"You're pretty confident about that," Peter said, and pushed himself up to sit, starting to put the plans away.

"I figured this out a while ago." Stark was eyeing him as he came back around to his cot. "So, yeah. We're good."

Peter paused before he sat. "I'm sorry," he said. "That I doubted you."

"You had every reason to, kid." Stark shrugged. "Are you actually gonna sleep, or should we work?"

"Yeah," Peter said quickly. "Let's work."

"Great." Stark pushed himself up off the cot. "Let's get this cloaking device done."

Peter breathed out slowly, nodded, and went to Stark's side at the lab table.

* * *

It had been four months now, ten for Stark, and even with the motivation of a mission Peter knew he was starting to lose it. The lab was tiny, he couldn't sleep, they worked constantly, and the only human he saw was Stark. The ache for the life he had back on Earth was so much worse here than it was on Prometheus.

He laid on the cot, hopeless, thoughts of being murdered by Cardassians once the plot was discovered taking firm root in his head, when he flinched at a touch on his shoulder.

"Hey." Stark's voice was soft. "Kid."

"What." Peter was too exhausted to make it a question.

"I think you need a distraction."

Peter opened his eyes and turned to face him. "What, more work?" he asked.

"No." Stark's smile was wry again, but without that touch of despair in his eyes. "Anyway, you can always say no, but -- " He kissed Peter, mouth gentle against his.

It was a surreal shock. Peter hadn't managed to pick up anything with anyone on Prometheus, so he'd literally lost count of how long it had been for anyone to even really touch him, not to even mention kiss him. He kissed him back anyway, desperate for the escape and maybe the idea that someone as incredible as _Tony Stark_ could even tolerate wanting him even as a distraction.

The cot was small, but Stark managed to climb on top of him anyway, and just the attention, the sensation of Stark's body hard and lean against him, was enough to make him ache and stiffen for more contact. Peter didn't care that the Cardassians could easily be watching them. He wanted this. He wanted to touch every inch of Tony's skin that he could and feel _good_.

Being with Stark was incredible. It was probably awkward, shaded with sadness, but Peter didn't care. Tony rested on top of him, spent, and Peter kissed his cheek.

"Can we do it again?" he whispered.

Stark laughed. "You're gonna have to give me some time to bounce back from that."

"I can do that."

Peter smiled, the first time he really meant it since the Prometheus fell. It was a surprise when Stark kissed him firmly after, and he just barely resisted falling into what was probably a dangerous emotion at the sensation.

That was all it was. Physical sensation. That was all it could be.

* * *

The routine changed a little after that. They would work for hours, maybe six or so, get a meal, take a break, fuck, then get an hour or so of sleep again before starting to work. It was impossible to tell how many days were passing until Nista informed them crisply of how long they had until the plans were due.

Five months in, Peter started to have the dreams: vivid, horrible visions of dying under the highest level of Cardassian torture. He woke up in tears. It didn't take long for Tony to shove their cots together and hold onto him as they tried their best to sleep. Mostly, it helped.

After six months, it was done. All the plans were in Cardassian hands. Now all they had to do was wait.

Tony was Tony now. Peter still called him 'Mr. Stark,' but that was just a desperate attempt to hide the truth that Tony probably already knew. None of what was happening in his head, in his heart, here could be anything real, Peter knew that. None of his feelings were anything but seeking out any kind of distraction in this horrible place.

Distraction. That was what Tony had called it that first day. That was it.

It wasn't dramatic when it happened; they didn't hear explosions or klaxons. The door just opened as they sat together on the combined cots, and a group of Cardassians moved in, Nista at the front.

"You," Nista said frostily, "will be tried in a Cardassian court for your crimes. Come." The Cardassians behind her moved towards them.

Tony shrugged and stood, surrendering himself, and Peter opened his mouth to speak when one of the Cardassians yanked him forward. "Wait," he tried. "What did we do?"

"Doesn't matter," Tony spoke up. "They've decided we're guilty."

"That's ridiculous," Peter spat out.

"You know very well what you did," Nista said, tone sharp. "Now, take them to their cells."

Peter cast a quick glance at Tony, who eyed him with a look that he could never mistake.

_Trust me_, it said.

* * *

Prison on Cardassia Prime was mostly boring. Waiting for the trial was the worst part. The main problem was the growing undeniability of the situation he was in:

Cardassian trials assumed you were guilty. The sentence was decided before you got there. The lawyer wanted you to lose. Peter was going to die.

It was a hell of a way to go, though. From what little he'd heard, they'd destroyed hundreds of Cardassian ships with their 'tweaks.' It was all Tony.

He worried for Tony the most. They probably hated him a lot more than they hated Peter, and there was no telling what they'd do to him. It was a nightmare to think of him getting worse than murder for doing the right thing.

It was probably four days in when they got the news.

The Federation knew. The Federation was coming.

* * *

Peter paced on the plush carpet of the starship, overwhelmed at the amount of space in the captain's office. "So you're telling me the Cardassians who held us -- "

"Were members of an organization called the Obsidian Order, an intelligence organization not allowed by Cardassian law to be engineering new and better ships, yes," Captain Galloway said easily. "So in order to cover this fact up, they needed to release you."

"Both of us," Peter checked.

Galloway paused. "Well -- "

"_Both of us_," Peter repeated, with a little more force.

Galloway frowned. "It's not that simple."

"We need Tony Stark back," Peter said flatly. "He's a hero."

"I understand that," Galloway said, sighing. "But that is…"

"We have to." Peter couldn't cope with it otherwise. He couldn't know that Tony was gone. "We're going to, right?"

"Yes," Galloway said after a pause. "Yes, we will."

Peter exhaled. "Thank you, Captain."

"Lieutenant," Galloway said with a nod, dismissing him.

Peter fled down to engineering. It wasn't his ship, but at least he felt at home among the machines, and it was a little reminder of those six months and what he had done.

* * *

In the end, they gave them medals.

Peter didn't get to talk to Tony before the ceremony, as he had been brought from Cardassia Prime just hours before, and in the med bay for most of that. He looked like he was just managing to stand upright.

He grabbed Tony's hand as they left the stage, and guided him off and away from the crowd without hesitation. Tony didn't want to look at them and neither did Peter, to be honest. He found a park bench and sat down, guiding Tony next to him.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked directly, and, despite himself, touched Tony's cheek to guide his gaze to him.

"Yeah," Tony answered, and met his gaze. Something terrible was there, but something that spread warmth in Peter's chest, too, a softness. "I'm here."

He released a breath, and pressed his forehead against Tony's, cupping the back of his neck with his hand. "I… was it worth it, Tony?"

"We're gonna win," Tony whispered. "And we made it home."

Peter closed his eyes. They'd made it home.


End file.
